“All right.” All her cards seemed on the table; if she wanted me out, all she would have to do is tell the maestro that I made a move on her. It would take a whole lot less than a handjob.

“All right?” she replied.

“All right, I’m not gay. Now what?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“I’m tired,” I said nervously, waiting to see whether I had been trapped or not.

“Me too. Why don’t you join me. I’ve rented a pretty good film.”

“That porn film.”

“It’s an art film,” she replied. So I got on the bed and she poured us both a drink and we watched this dirty art film, and slowly we got closer and when I started mimicking the film—kissy, touchy, feely—she didn’t stop me.

When I awoke late the next morning, she was still in my arms, something I had never experienced with Glenn, or for that matter most lovers. I felt hot and sweaty, so I carefully pried myself loose and started a bath. While the water ran, I put on a pot of coffee and got the New York Times that had been slid under the locked elevator door. In the bath I aristocratically downed the coffee and English muffins while reading the newspaper. Soon Janus joined me in the massive tub, and we giggled and splashed around like toddlers.

The beginning of a relationship is always the prime cut of the affair. I was in love. That night, post-coitally, I asked Janus, “Do you think we’re taking a risk by sleeping together?”

“No,” Janus continued, “even if he did come unannounced, he’d come in the evening after a daylight flight.”

“How self-assured,” I replied. “You sound like you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

She smiled and kissed me. “You’re jealous already.”

“Well, I’ll overcome that. But I’m still nervous about him coming in and catching us. If he was so damn thorough about having a homosexual in residence, then he’s obviously the jealous type. And it’d be a high price to pay if we got caught.”

She agreed and carefully we established certain safeguards. The next day, we went out and bought our own linen, which Janus would put on the bed each night and replace with the normal circular sheets the next morning. Also she warned that we should never be seen in public, as the eminent director had a network of opportunists hoping for jobs in his films, doing anything they could to ingratiate themselves to him. Additionally she would distance us by indicating that I was too effeminate for her liking.

One evening, arriving late at work, I opened the office door and found Miguel sitting at his desk with a smile on his face. He didn’t say a word. When I asked him what was up, he took two paper cups from out of the desk drawer and then a small frosted bottle of Cordon Negro from out of the dwarf refrigerator. Popping the cork, he announced, “We got it.”

“Got what?”

“I just got the mortgage on the Jersey place.”

“But it’s nowhere near June.”

“No, but we got enough in our account to get a loan from the bank. I got it away from the loan shark. If we miss a payment, I won’t get killed.”

We toasted and drank, and he explained that we had several more months of embezzling at the standard pace.

“But even then, we’ve got to leave here gracefully or they’ll become suspicious.” We toasted some more and got more enthusiastic. “By the by,” he interrupted himself, “Owensfield called.”

“About his screening?” I remembered that he was supposed to be finished with his film soon.

“Well, he mentioned it, but do you remember that conversation you guys had about Vienna or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Apparently you really did impress him. He asked me to invite you to his contributor’s party celebrating some new issue of his magazine.”

“Why would he invite me?”

“Actually, he invited both of us.”

“When?”

“This Friday.”

“Not this Friday?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ll be in Arcadia this Friday with lover boy.” If we went to this Harrington party together, Miguel would discover my scam to get published. And although it was no money out of his pocket, I didn’t want him to consider his future business partner so deceitful so soon.

“What is the name of this alleged beloved?”

“Donny,” I selected randomly.

“Like Donny Osmond.”

“More like Adonis.”

“They’re all Adonis,” he replied, and grabbing his jacket he bid me good night and left.

After all the spins of the turnstile and the backward spins of stolen money 1 locked up, made my night drops, and went to Ternevsky’s. I opened the elevator door and stared at the house. It looked like a small tornado had hit. Janus was sitting on the bed. Silently she handed me the postcard that Ternevsky had sent saying that he had concluded all business on the continent and he would be home by the time she got this postcard.

The night was too grim to make love. The next morning we changed the sheets, and waited nervously for Ternevsky’s grand entrance. Although neither of us wanted it, our great love was instantly turned into a protracted one-night stand. Janus even helped me apply some of Ternevsky’s male cosmetics; transforming into a swank gay in season. As evening thickened so did our anxieties. We wandered around the house like strangers. I didn’t have any work that night, so I pointlessly tried to console Janus. But we became increasingly depressed. She commented that we were just property of Ternevsky and finally suggested that it would be wiser if we were apart when Ternevsky arrived. I agreed and left.

I walked around the neighborhood, finally checking out the street vendors on Second Avenue. On the display blanket of one vendor I noticed an old Hamilton wristwatch in fair condition.

“How much?”

“Five bucks,” the seller said. He was a poorly dressed black man in his sixties.

“How about three bucks?” I held out the dollars in front of him.

“Look, them extra two bucks means I eat.”

“Hey, I’m no different than you,” I replied. “It means the same thing for me.”

“Well, I don’t see you selling your shit to stay fed.”

“You want the money or no?”

“Four bucks,” he finally replied. It wasn’t poverty that compelled me to haggle. I just liked the sport of it. Actually, I had this week’s pay on me, two hundred and fifteen bucks. I gave him the three and an extra dollar in change and put the old watch with the elastic band around my wrist. I then proceeded up First Avenue. If Ternevsky was back for good he was probably going to ask me to move. The party was over; he was probably screwing Janus right now.

“Hey,” someone yelled as I was crossing Ninth Street. It was Angel, an usher I had worked with at the Saint Mark’s Cinema. We talked a bit, and he asked me whether I had heard a rumor that the Saint Mark’s Cinema was going out of business.

“No way,” I replied.

“I heard it was going to turn it into some kind of yuppie mall.”

“I wish I was a yuppie,” I said.

“Why?”

“They’re young and they have money, the winning combination.”

“Well, you’re still young—halfway there. You’re not looking for any coke, are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk,” I replied.

“I can give you a good deal on some coke. Have a taste.” And he unfolded a small packet of aluminum foil, dabbed a little on the end of his long-grown pinky nail, and held it up to my nose. I snorted and felt the tingle rise and spread.

“Wait one second,” I said and went to the pay phone where I called Janus. I told her that 1 would be home soon with a parting gift.

“How much is it?” 1 asked the ex-usher.

“I’m freezing out here,” he replied and gave me a great deal; two grams for two hundred bucks. I went home quickly and showed it to a grim Janus.

“Tonight,” I said, “let’s go out in style.”

We went out to a nearby restaurant for dinner and then came home and watched some TV. Initially we were able to forget the impending return, but when we remembered it was additionally painful. We tried to be intimate but it wasn’t working; we couldn’t ignore the sword dangling over our heads. Finally she declared, “This is bullshit.”